Rivers, Sunsets and Peace
by braidonfire
Summary: "There are almost no remnants of war or injustice around me.  Barely any exist anywhere.  Peace has ruled Panem for four years."  Post-Mockingjay.


The clear, blue water trickles between my toes. Small groups of orange fish navigate their way around the obstruction that is my body, tracing a path downstream. I can hear the breeze blowing gently through the trees, chirps and coos carried on the voices of mockingjays, and it's almost as if four distinct notes, still fresh and meaningful after all these years, are being sung into my ears by a small, brave, and dark little bird. The sun shines brightly overhead, and I can smell the comforting aroma of baked bread and cheese floating through the windows of the house beyond the fence. A small, overfed rabbit hops out of the woods and disappears into a flowerbed.

There are almost no remnants of war or injustice around me here. Barely any exist anywhere.

Peace has ruled Panem for four years.

Some say that our present placidity is the result of the actions of the girl on fire and the boy with the bread. But I think differently. The past four years have been a struggle and a blessing, and the right to a happy life has only come from the efforts of every person that calls themself a citizen here. It wasn't just me, with my rebellious spark that started the fight. It wasn't just Peeta, whose natural kindness and powers of persuasion dissuaded everyone from evil until his capture. It was every child that dreamed of a future without a perilous ball of paper threatening to end their life. Every parent that worked for their living, however small, hoping that someday they could afford a spare moment to hug their son or daughter. Every hunter, fighter, and survivor – all of them brought down the iron grip that held our society for so long.

"Dreaming again, sweetheart?"

I am not startled. Maybe it's my years of stealth, fighting to live. Maybe it's my sense of normalcy now, at home and at peace here. But when the loaves of dough and cheese are placed on the riverbed beside me, I simply let out a breath and tilt my head back, soaking in the sunlight.

"Your dress is going to get soaked if you keep sitting in the stream like that," he says.

I hum a few notes. "It'll dry."

He doesn't say anything else. There's no need to. Slowly, I see two feet step into the water beside me – one made of flesh, the other made of shiny, lustrous metal – and I hear a clumsy splash as Peeta settles down next to me.

"Careful," I whisper. "You'll alert the fish tributes."

"I guess after all these years I'm still the clumsy baker."

"Well, there aren't any knives pointed at you anymore, unless your kitchen turns on you."

I hear the throaty chuckle before I feel his hand, strong and sturdy, slipping into mine. See the glint of his golden, wavy hair dipping onto my shoulder as the sun begins to dip lower in the eastern sky, coloring the clouds a mix of purples and oranges. He sighs. I smile.

"Sunset orange, Peeta." He nods against the bare skin of my shoulder and presses a kiss to my neck. "You know, you never explained why that was your favorite color."

His hand grips mine tighter, but he's smiling. I can feel it as he kisses my jaw. I can't tell if it takes him a moment to remember, or if he just wants to bask in the warmth of the bright star for as long as he can, but he pauses before starting to speak. "My whole life I lived in that bakery. I went to school, did my job, watched the girl I loved walk home –" I exhale, laughing, " – and cooked. I wanted to hunt, I wanted to go outside and _see _what the real world was like for a change. But with the desperation of our district and the people that survived on what we made, I never could."

I don't comfort him. I don't say anything. I just stare straight on into the growing darkness as he continues.

"I had this one window, right at the top of the bedroom I shared with my brothers. It was too high for me to ever see out of, but I remember lying on my bed at dusk, reading or studying or daydreaming about you – and the orange from the sunset would stream onto my face, and it was warm, and beautiful. And even if I never got to see what was really out there in District 12 – even if the woods, the Seam, the Hob remained unknown to me – I guess the nightly promise of beauty, even just for a few minutes, was enough to give me hope that there was something beautiful in our universe, and not just the cruel reality we were forced to live through."

"You never questioned that?" I ask quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. "You never thought that maybe everything wasn't as great as the beauty made it seem, that maybe the sunlight was only an illusion? That even hurt could defeat it?"

He shakes his head, intertwining our fingers. "For me, there had to be something beautiful. I had to find it in at least one thing about my life. A girl in a red plaid dress wasn't enough, sometimes. I think I needed a reminder, and the sunset just seemed…I don't know. Like hope."

I feel that thing again. That fluttering in my stomach. I feel it all the time, now; the man next to me is my everything, my world. But this feels like I'm back in the first arena again, droplets of water falling on my forehead and stories of pigtails and valley songs filling my head. It feels like I'm discovering him for the first time, like there's an even deeper, even more beautiful side to the boy with the bread that I've never dreamed of.

Peeta is more like myself than I had ever imagined. I grew up fighting for myself, taking from a small number of people and trusting even less. I watched the boys at school play together, heard the girls talk about trivial things. I thought I was the only different one, the only person with a mind strong enough to fight.

Every day, I'm learning that I was very wrong.

The sun finally dips below the horizon and the moon glows overhead. An arm wraps around me, pulls me closer to the body curled next to mine, and grabs a cheese bun from the plate. "I like nighttime," Peeta says softly.

"It sure makes it harder to see your enemies."

"That's what I love. It lets you forget."

He still has his way with words, that graceful, fluid form of speaking and convincing. No one has ever made me feel things with words the way he does. It's almost magical, the way his voice makes me forget the horrors we've lived through and the scarring, nightmarish sights we've seen.

I'm safe with him.

A cold breeze blows through the trees and I shiver, the water starting to chill and the sky darkening further. The clouds above us begin to part, revealing a sky full of supernovas and galaxies. I stand and hold out my hand.

"Let's let the fish have their highway back, huh?" I say softly, my eyes twinkling. He chuckles and lets me help him up. Slowly we make our way back to the house at the edge of the Victor's Village, Peeta holding the gate open so I can walk through it.

"You think Haymitch wants any of these?" Peeta asks me once we're inside, motioning to the buns lying on the counter. "I made a ton extra."

"I'll take them over tomorrow, if he's home. I know he's been doing a lot of work with helping the people in the Seam get back on their feet."

"Who would've thought it'd be _Haymitch_ doing the charity work," Peeta chuckles. I squeeze his hand.

"Let's just be thankful it's that instead of buying the District out of white liquor," I say with a heavy sigh. "I think I'm going to bed. Join me?"

He smiles and pulls me in by my hips so we're pressed against each other. He nudges my nose with mine, and smiles because he knows it tickles and he knows I love it. I brush back a lock of hair that's fallen into his eyes and give him a light kiss on the tips of his lips. Everything about him instantly brightens.

"Always."


End file.
